


Anniversary

by ellewrites, Miss_Murdered



Series: Forever [6]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Angst, Anniversary, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2014-02-16
Packaged: 2018-01-12 16:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1191522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellewrites/pseuds/ellewrites, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in the same universe as Forever. Heero and Duo celebrate their fifth anniversary together. 1x2x1. PWP-ish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heero

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We still don't own *sigh*
> 
> Pairings/Warnings: 1x2x1, language, angst, sap, sexually explicit situations,
> 
> Notes: Well, it was a year ago today that the first PM was sent between us and a friendship that neither of us expected started. So to celebrate our first "anniversary" we had to write something so here is Heero and Duo celebrating theirs in an appropriate fashion . ;-P

**Heero**

Unsurprisingly, we had never been  _that_  couple – the ones with overt public displays of affection, gratuitous gifts exchanged, reminders set counting down the day until our anniversary. Sure, if he wanted to kiss me, he'd just fucking kiss me – though generally that would be somewhere a little more private than the office break room. And if I wanted to give him something, I'd just damn do it – no reason to wait until any special day. So I'm sure he thought I'd done all I intended to do today when I managed to convince Une to allow him to take the sleek, shiny, new  _and_  experimental guns on his next assignment despite her assertion that a more "orthodox" agent might perform a better field test and went out of my way at lunch to bring him back his favorite Chinese dumplings from a shop over fifteen minutes away.

But not this year. This year marked five years since he first kissed me. That night had been weighing on my mind a lot recently and the sentimental part of me couldn't let it go. Maybe part of it was that he was working late, trying to prep for his next assignment two days from now where I'd be left without him, I don't know. But after I clocked out I picked up a bottle of cheap-ass whiskey – one that didn't even come in glass, just shitty plastic – and some cheap pre-packaged sandwiches and headed back to the office to pick up Duo.

I watched him for a moment from the door to his office, his face focused, dedicated, looking so adult now. Five years. It had changed us – both of us. He was still handsome and vivacious and everything I wanted – but he was different too. More serious. More grown-up, I guess.

"You want to get out of here?" I asked as I leaned in the doorway, wondering if he remembered how he'd asked me the same question five years ago when I was buried in paperwork. But it was different because I was explaining the loss of two teammates due to my inability to act. He looked up at me after glancing at the clock a bit petulantly but when his eyes met mine he smiled.

"Guess you'll be wanting your anniversary present sometime today, eh?" he asked with a suggestive raise of one eyebrow.

I just shrugged as sex hadn't really been on my mind. I'd been so wrapped up in the past. It caused him to narrow his brows a bit in concern but he finished up what he was doing and joined me at the door, grabbing my hand and pressing a light kiss to my lips. He had a look on his face that was asking me if everything was okay and I nodded, dropping his hand and leading him out to the car.

He'd had to drag me away from that desk five years ago, reluctant and depressed, riddled with guilt. I felt useless and ineffectual. I had thought it would be okay. I had recovered physically, learned that Mariemaia was alive, eventually got frustrated with traveling and trying to find "myself" – a person I wasn't even sure existed – and I thought I could join Preventer and be useful to someone again. But then, when I actually got in the field...

"We going somewhere?" Duo asked as he noted the sandwiches stashed in the back and I gave a noncommittal grunt before turning away from home. I guess he got that something was going on in my head and he didn't ask any questions, just reached over the back and grabbed one of the sandwiches, unwrapping it and taking a generous bite.

It was an hour and a half drive out of the city. I remembered sitting in the beat up piece of junk Duo called a car five years ago, glaring out the window, not even questioning where we were going because fuck if it mattered. At some point I had come to the realization that I would never be able to function in a post-war society, that I was useless and ineffectual because I had let those men on my team die, watched them bleed out because I couldn't fire my gun. I should've been the one who'd died. I was no good to anyone.

My thoughts had turned dark and I didn't want to be there. I felt Duo was always dragging me around, forcing me to do shit I didn't want to do, socialize when I'd rather sulk, unable to understand at the time that he was just trying to help me the way he wanted someone to help him. But all I had felt was irritation.

Duo hit the radio and sang along with it the way he had then. And he grinned at me, the way he had then, but there was mischief in his eyes and I guessed he probably knew where we were going. His hand found my thigh and slid up to my hip, fingers jabbing to tickle me a little and my lips twitched upward despite my best efforts to stop them and I shifted in the seat, trying to dislodge them.

"You shouldn't look so serious all the time, babe, or your face will freeze like that," he joked with a smile he reserved only for me. That smile still made my heart feel too constricted in my chest and I couldn't help smiling back.

When we got to our destination – a secluded hill overlooking the lake, the stars magnificent so far away from the light pollution of the city – we sat on the hood of the car, just like we had then, and I brought out the cheap whiskey. I broke the seal and took a swallow, the sharp taste infiltrating my senses, the burn unpleasant as it slid down my throat and I tried not to cough as I handed it to him.

I stared up at the nearly full moon, noting the dim specks of the L1 colony cluster, less reflective than the moon itself, and I thought of L2 on the other side and it seemed poetic in some way. That we had both fallen from space and landed here together. But realistically it was just pure coincidence that we were both picked for Operation Meteor and given any set of circumstances other than the specific ones we'd undergone we would not be together at all.

That didn't make what we had any less special to me though – in fact, it seemed more so. More unlikely, more impossible. More special.

My hand found his then, fingers locking together and he leaned his head on my shoulder. The breeze was gentle and cool but his warmth was comforting to me, the way it always had been. He had been so cautious to touch me five years ago – and I didn't know how badly I needed that. Touch. Human contact. Someone's reassurance.

"You know, I brought you out here because the moon always makes me think of you." He chuckled a little and thumbed the mouth of the bottle with his free hand. "Kinda stupid. Guess I thought... it would help."

"You helped," I reassured him, squeezing his hand a little, remembering what an asshole I had been at the time, only concerned about getting too drunk to get back. But then I didn't really care if the car crashed or whatever. At least that would be it – I wouldn't have to figure out how to go on like this.

I didn't even really remember what it was he'd said to me back then. Something about the earth, the war, shit I didn't really want to think about – shit that only made me feel worse – so I ignored him. Watched him chug back the cheap ass bottle of liquor he'd had stashed in the back seat like it was water.

Duo laughed again and I lay my head on his, my nose buried in his hair so I could breathe in the combination of sandalwood and C4 that was uniquely Duo.

"You know how much of this shit I had ta drink to get the guts to kiss you?" he asked with a sly grin and I sat up a little to get a better look at him. Duo sat up as well and winked as he took a swallow, immediately grimacing on the burn and coughing a little. "God this  _is_  shit."

I touched his cheek then, fingers brushing away wisps of hair caught in the wind and sliding into the base of his braid, cradling his neck. Moonlight caught in his eyes so that they gleamed and it wasn't much different than it was then – my heart still pounded in my chest, my blood still felt like it was on fire, and I still thought he was breath-taking in the starlight – except this time I wasn't confused.

I leaned forward and kissed him then, softly, closing my eyes and opening my mouth to his warm tongue. And I knew him now. Last time it was klutzy, a nervous, hesitant kind of kiss, pushed on me by a very drunk Duo and I didn't understand very much. But within our intermingled breathing he'd whispered that he'd missed me while I was gone and I at least managed to get the fundamental message there, the only thing that mattered – that there was someone who cared.

I didn't really understand love or desire or any of that, but I did understand one thing as he kissed me again, and again – if I ever wanted to understand, if I ever wanted to be able to reciprocate this kind of emotion, if I ever wanted to be able to be a productive member of society I wasn't going to be able to do it alone. I'd tried that – and clearly it wasn't working. I needed help and silently I promised him I would get it.

And as I kissed him now I made a similar promise. I couldn't keep going on like this – jealous, possessive, so fucking terrified of losing him. We might've had our shit together enough not have had sex that night, falling asleep on top of each other innocently enough in the back seat of the car, and it might've been nearly six months of therapy before he kissed me again, but I had still come to rely on him now in a way that wasn't healthy. For him, or for me. And the more I tried to fix it, the deeper a hole I dug myself, until the very thought of him leaving on this assignment Friday without me to watch his back had terror clawing its way up my throat, threatening full-fledged panic.

"'Ro?" he whispered as our lips parted, eyes studying mine closely, intensely. "You okay?"

"Yeah – I just..." I cleared my throat a little, choking down my fears to force myself back into this moment – what was supposed to be a good moment. But I felt exposed and vulnerable and I dropped my hand from his neck and my eyes to my knees.

"Hey." Duo set down the bottle and grasped my hands in his, holding them tight. "This was real sweet, you know?"

I nodded, but I couldn't trust my voice.

"It's amazing to think how far we've come," he continued but I didn't feel like I'd come that far at all – still requiring his validation to give me meaning.

Duo leaned in a little closer, his nose bumping mine so that I'd look up at him and meet his eyes once more. Which I did, reluctantly, afraid he'd see too much. He'd always seemed to see right through me.

"I can't wait to see the next five years," he murmured and he kissed me then. And when our lips fell apart he kissed me again.


	2. Duo

**Duo**

Five years. Huh. At the beginning I feared it wouldn't last five minutes, chugging back cheap whiskey so I could get the nerve to kiss him – fearing that, as I pressed my lips onto his, that he'd react and knock my lights out. He didn't. Instead, he kissed back, our noses bumping, our teeth knocking and for a first kiss it was probably fucking embarrassing. But then it was perfect in its own damn way.

Though now, five years later our lips were more assured, our tongues knowing the nuances of each other's mouths, our breathing in time. Our hands were connected on the car hood as I reached for him, my fingers teasing the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck as I always did. I'm a creature of habit and Heero was a habit I never could quit.

Five years ago I drank too much, stayed out too late and generally tried to make myself a damn liability to Preventer so that they might fire my ass and then I'd be done with it. But then Heero joined and that spark came back – that desire. Naw, not for sex even though I knew he was a fucking gorgeous specimen of masculinity but the desire to fight – I wanted then to be better, to try and deal. Try being the operative word as I admit, I'm probably still as fucked up as ever, I just function better.

We're not healthy for each other – give me a cold, harsh light of day and I'll admit it. He's needy and requires constant reassurance. I'm no better, demanding, irrational and downright argumentative. And we know each other too well – it's like if someone wanted to know what was in my soul, my heart, whatever the fuck, I wouldn't have the answer, Heero would. But despite the fact we're ill-suited in so many fucking ways I will never want anyone else. He's mine and I'm his and I can't contemplate forever without him, you know? So we'll be fucked up together.

The momentum of our kiss increased, his hands cupping my jaw and I felt myself shiver and not from the cold night. I loved that we were here – where we first damn kissed, underneath the stars, the moonlight, both tasting of cheap whiskey. The moon always reminded me of him, lying back and looking at it during the war and thinking about where the fuck that asshole who stole Deathscythe's parts was.

That first time we were hesitant. As you know, despite my bravado, I'd never actually gone all the way and shit, unlike now, five years ago I didn't carry lube or condoms knowing that at some point in our regular working week we would need to fuck in an inappropriate location. So falling asleep together, smelling of stale sweat and bad whiskey had been all we did. Not tonight. And it was our anniversary an' all so fucking had always been in the cards.

He reached for underneath my braid like he always did as I nipped at his lower lip, worried it between his teeth as I slid down my hand to his thigh, teasingly rubbing upwards 'til I reached his dick, half hard from our kiss. I could work with that, I guessed, now realising rationality be damned as I crawled into his lap, straddling him on the car hood.

Yeah we weren't exactly good for each other, I knew that, even as we celebrated five years together. But I could never not feel this need for him as I ground myself onto his body, rubbed myself up against him, kissed him for all I was damn worth. I wanted to imbue myself with his scent, wanted to crawl inside him – he was fucking intoxicating, so intoxicating that I never had been able to get enough, never been able to control myself where he was concerned and I knew he felt the same as I slid my hand to his waistband, undoing his belt and button and fly until I brought his dick out into the cold night air. He gasped at the first contact of my hand on him and I smirked into our kiss before, without any encouragement or foreplay, I slid down, sucking on the head of his dick, blowing him on the car hood underneath the stars.

This – you know – this was what I lived for. I mean, not just sucking his cock, but the way I knew each ridge of his body, knew each way to make him moan, say my name like I was his fucking god, make him tremble under my touch and my mouth.

I'd taken years to know, to know the spot behind his ear that made him moan, the place in the juncture of collarbone that I could bite down on, the way his stomach muscles would jump when I licked a scar across his abs and the way to suck and lap at the head of dick that made him gently slide his fingers through my bangs, stroking them as I went down on him.

"Duo…" I heard him say and pull at my head.

I looked up, my lips still poised just inches from his cock, breathing warm air onto him and I saw him flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded through pleasure and alcohol and fuck, my heart stopped as the moonlight caught the blueness of his eyes, the angles of his jaw, and I couldn't resist him tugging me up to kiss one more time, the salty taste of pre-cum mingling with whiskey and the processed cheese of cheap sandwiches.

I wanted to consume him, wanted to make him feel so damn good, show him in every damn way how he was  _it_  for me and I tasked myself with undoing his buttons, parting his shirt and pushing up the tank so I could touch his skin, rough and scarred and such a fucking turn on.

His hands had worked at my pants and he grasped my cock a little roughly, a little like I liked, his thumb pressing into the slit and rubbing the wetness over the head. I groaned, jerked my hips and lost contact with his lips but fuck if that mattered when he leaned up to my ear after licking a trail up my throat.

"Fuck me, Duo."

Shit. I nearly lost in his hand then but I pushed myself up on the car hood so that I could gaze down at him, at how intense his eyes looked and I knew he was thinking about us just as I was. And I grabbed for his hand, the one not wrapped around my dick, lacing our fingers together.

"You sure?"

He nodded and I took that as all I needed – I wasn't gonna deny I wanted him, that I wanted to fuck him underneath the stars and all, but shit, I wanted him to want me because he did, not because of black thoughts and memories.

We stowed lube and condoms in the glove compartment – hey, we stowed it where we damn needed, I had some in my desk at damn work and it was in multiple locations around the house – so I hopped off to retrieve it and returned to him, him lazily pumping his dick which I watched for a second while my brain melted a little in response to how fucking sexy he looked. Then I pulled him to the edge of the hood as I stood between his legs.

I pushed his tank up further as I slid a finger inside him, nipping and biting and lapping around his nipples, feeling how I could play his body like a concert violinist. He was always so responsive, as though in sex it was the only time he could let go, as though when we fucked it was the only time Heero wasn't Heero Yuy, poster-boy for peace, war hero extraordinaire and motherfucking badass Preventer agent – and in these moments he was all mine.

His body twitched around my fingers as I prepped him, a little bit of teasing involved, as I fucked him with my fingers in imitation of what I would do with my body. I looked up to see him panting and if we were at home, I would've tortured him 'til he damn screamed my name, 'til he was wild eyed and writhing but tonight I capitulated after one glare and slid lubricated latex onto my dick.

I lined myself up, using my hand and slowly pushed in, checking for discomfort as so much of our fucking lives was about pain and violence and right now, I didn't want this moment to be about that. Yeah we fucked at times with nails running down each other's back, biting down on each other's skin but tonight, naw, tonight I wanted to make love to him even if the thought sounded fucking cheesy ass in my head.

As five year ago, with a kiss, with cheap whiskey, he'd saved me.

Once inside him, hot and tight, I closed my eyes, stilled myself, thought for a moment how we'd look. Two dudes fucking on a car hood with me mostly dressed and him half naked. Then I forgot fucking everything as he moved, just the tiniest thing, flexed a little and fuck, I was ready to slam him against the metal but the thought faded as I opened my eyes, reached for his hand, and slowly rolled my hips into him and back out, taking small movements first, making him feel every inch of my dick inside him. I was going as slow as I could stand to, feeling his free hand reach for my ass, stopping me from moving too far back, kneading it as I pushed myself into him.

I wanted to keep eye contact, wanted to, but his eyes drifted up and I felt like I could see the starlight in them or something and shit, I was getting sappy even as I kept pumping my hips into his, feeling like I wanted this to be us forever. None of the violence, none of the rough sex, none of the missions where we nearly died – this was us as I wanted us to be, our fingers entwined, our bodies connected, but it was all brief, all flashes in our lives. Despite how I wanted to hold onto this, I was getting close as he was pushing back, he was moving his finger down to my ass to tease and I increased my pace, changed my angle, made him arch his back against the metal as I fucked him harder against our car.

Our interlocked hands drifted to his cock, wet at the tip, and I let him lead the strokes, feeling his dick between our fingers as we faltered together, him twitching first, cum leaking onto our hands and me stopping a second as he felt so damn good. I waited until I could move, leaning down to kiss him roughly as I buried myself deep a few times, drawing out his orgasm and descending into my own, feeling myself cum in latex as far as I could be inside him and in that moment I was as close to him as I ever could be.

Sticky, sweaty and damn bone-weary, I collapsed onto him, licking at that patch of skin on his neck that made him shiver as he ran patterns down my back. I softened inside him and slid out as his arms wrapped me tighter and I felt more than sated – more than sexually satisfied. I felt… shit, I felt loved, wanted, needed and all that other Hallmark greeting card shit.

"'Ro?" I asked softly against his skin as I stopped my licking.

"Yeah?"

I paused and then propped myself on my elbow so I could look at him – how he looked after sex, younger seeming, less serious,  _my_  Heero, you know? The one no one else got to see.

"Let's do this again at ten years."

He chuckled, his low little laugh that I fucking loved. "You think we'll make ten?"

"Yeah… how can you resist me, babe? I'm the best fuck you'll ever have."

He smoothed some hair from my face and his throat moved but no words came out so I kissed whatever insecurities were there away as damn, I would always want him, and even though what we had wasn't right, wasn't normal, wasn't perfect – it was us. And I wanted a ten year anniversary and a twenty year one and, if we made it, a fucking fifty year one when we were damn old and wrinkly.

I released his lips and smiled, trying to change his melancholy mood. "How do you wanna spend the rest of our anniversary?"

He leaned up, nibbled on my earlobe and his hot breath washed across my face. "On the back seat with me fucking you slowly all night."

I moaned and moved off him, still holding his sticky hand, ready to drag him into the back of the car. And though I never thought we'd make five years, I'm eternally glad we had and I wanted to spend the rest of the night wrapped around his body, celebrating our anniversary the proper fucking way.


End file.
